Without letting go, she leaned in and traced his bottom lip with her tongue before pulling it between her teeth, not gentle. Not in the least. As she let his lip scrape through her teeth, she fisted her hand up the length of his cock.
A mixture of pleasure and delicious pain arced through him. “Mel. Christ.” He pulled her shirt off, which sadly took her hand off him, but gave him access to that beautiful body of hers. So strong, so wet and soft. He scraped his palms over her stomach, leaned in to lick a trail of raindrops from her neck.
She sighed, her breath cooling the rain on his own skin, and if he were a man prone to shivering, he might never have stopped.
He pushed her bra down, groaning at the sight of her. Her nipples puckered from the wet and cold, goose bumps rising up across her chest as drops of water from her hair slid down the expanse of pale skin. “I could look at you all damn day,” he said, reverent.
He had to back her against the wall, just so he could have something to lean against. Something to keep him upright. She was killing him just by existing, killing him with every stroke of fingertip against skin, a tantalizing design from chest to stomach, stomach to…sweet Christ, finally she grasped him again.
But he wanted more than her hand, needed more. If he was going to be killed, it was damn well going to be inside of her.
He pushed at her pants, trying to get them off. He was so desperate for more, for her, for anything and everything that meant they were together. “Let me fuck you now. Right now. Please, I need to be inside you.”
The noise she made, like something between a moan and a sigh just about buckled his knees, but he used the wall as support while she tried to get her wet pants off. He watched, completely enthralled as more and more of her came into view—those long legs, the muscles in her arms working as she tried to free herself from clothes.
“Condom. Condom. Condom.” She chanted it, like she was trying to remind herself as much as tell him. Pushing her panties off, so all that was left on were socks and her bra at her waist.
“Don’t. Move.”
He didn’t pause to see if she would listen. He didn’t pause for anything. He got the condom, peeled off his pants and boxers, and was already tearing the packet open when he returned.
She was still standing against the wall, palms resting against it, chest rising and falling, her bra still askew, her hair even more askew, and her eyes wide. There was something wild and desperate in them, matching exactly what he felt.
It pounded through him, some distant beat he didn’t recognize. There was a heaviness to the desperation inside of him. There was something more under all this. More than sex. More than sex with Mel.
That was the absolute last thing he wanted to think about right now. He rolled the condom on and she watched, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth. When he just stood there, her gaze finally met his.
“Come here,” she said, an order hidden underneath breathlessness.
He was helpless to ignore any order she might give, so he came closer. He reached around to unclasp her bra and let it fall to the ground, and then he trailed his hand down her back, her ass, grabbing her leg and pulling it around his waist.
He might not want to think about more, but it permeated the air between them. This thing. Heavy and real.
“Tell me…tell me you need this, Mel.”
“I do. I…” Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she braced herself against the wall so he could lift her other leg, slowly push inside of her.
He had to take a breath and a moment to absorb the way things seemed to click into place when they were together like this. It was more than pleasure; it was right.
She locked her legs around him, and he was able to grab her hips, hold her where he needed her to be. Against him, taking him, holding on to his shoulder like he was all there was to hold on to.
“Look at me when you say it.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and her mouth opened soundlessly for a moment. He held himself still, eyes locked on hers. He needed the words, the look in her eyes. He needed so much, and he didn’t know how to get it all. When she said it, she whispered it.
“I need you, Dan.”
Which wasn’t what he’d asked, and if he couldn’t see her regret at saying it, he might have been frightened enough by that. But she didn’t want her need any more than he’d be able to handle it.
“I need you to…” She looked panicked for a second, as if she was trying to take back all the words. As if she didn’t understand he wasn’t ready for them. “I need you to f-fuck me. Hard, please. Really. Just…rough. Make it…go away.”
That was something he could handle. And even if he didn’t know what she wanted him to make go away, he could imagine. This feeling, this desperation, this need. The scary ribbon of connection that seemed to wind its way between them whether they wanted it to or not. Make it go away.
Yes. They both needed this, whether they wanted to or not.